Too Close
by XxHermione'Jean'MalfoyxX
Summary: Scully and Mulder investigate the death of a nurse and end up with an X-Files case bigger than anyone could imagine. All the while Scully battles within herself to tell Mulder exactly how she feels about him.
1. Secrets and Solitude

Too Close, An X –Files fanfiction

Prologue: Secrets and Solitude

POV Dana Scully

The worst mistake I ever made was falling in love with my partner. Not a life partner, or a partner in a romantic relationship … an FBI partner. Fox Mulder to be precise.

I was only just realizing this as he picked up a piece of burnt cloth with the end of his pen and examined it skeptically. We were both leaning down, close to the floor, searching for the confusing and misleading evidence of a homicide.

We had been called to investigate the unexplainable death of a nurse at Saint Julies center for the terminally ill in Los Angeles, California by a friend of mine from medical school: Dr. Ben Steinhart. He had contacted me the previous day; tired of the inconclusive results he had received from the local police in solving the crime. It was no X-file, but I had dragged Mulder along with me, insistent that I needed his help on the case. The pitiful truth, however, was that I couldn't last a day without him by my side. We had become a little overly attached, to say the least. I guess that two and a half years of saving each other's lives had created a connection that I felt more strongly than he did.

I turned and peered into his eyes, mesmerized by the amount of passion and need for discovery locked inside of them. His yearning for the truth was so endearing, but I assumed that the love for his work overshadowed any love he could ever have for a human being; namely me.

We were inside a vacated patient's room where the late Nurse Roberts was found dead, scorched and steaming, as if struck by lightning. The police and detectives before us had gathered most of the evidence, but Fox had just uncovered the singed blue cloth that had been caught in the windowsill and fell to the ground.

"It looks like the missing sleeve from her scrubs." I told him, clear and calculating.

He leaned towards me, saying, "I agree. And it was burned off by whoever…or whatever killed her." His face was close to mine and my heart was pounding out of my chest. Trying to pull my attention away from our intimate proximity, I examined the evidence.

"What is the brown residue on it?" I squinted my eyes. "It seems like powder."

Fox brought it close to his nose and slightly inhaled. "Its smells sweet, like molasses. We need to get this to a lab and see what makes up its chemical compound."

"That can be done on the premises," Sounded a strong and booming voice from behind us. In the frantic sensation of getting caught in a private moment, I shot up to my feet quickly, making myself dizzy. Fox slowly rose behind me, not as affected.

Dr. Ben, as he liked to be called, stepped into the room and shut the clear glass door behind him. "Is that the only thing you found interesting?" His bright eyes twinkled at me, enhancing the handsome and mature face that framed them. If I had become a Resident like Ben instead of accepting my recruitment into the FBI, I might have eventually married the man. Even though I never really loved Stienhart, he had been my best friend many years prior. I smiled back at him, glad to be in his company once again.

Mulder noticed our locked gazes and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "This cloth has burns like we saw on the body, but is covered in a thin layer of brown powder that I want analyzed as soon as possible. I checked all electrical devices and outlets and didn't find any abnormalities or possible malfunctions. Her death is still quite mysterious." He uncovered a vile from his pocket and stuffed the clue inside, capping and handing it to me. "Thanks for the offer, Steinhart, but I think we will take this to one of our facilities downtown later, for a *_**professiona**_**l*** analysis, " he said with a smug grin.

Ben's joyous demeanor dropped a couple of notches and he asked statically, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah" My words jumped out before Mulder could hurt him further. "Can you direct us to the patient who was in here when Nurse Roberts died?"

"Sure," he replied, taking a deep breath and pointing out the door. "She is at the end of the hallway. Saralina Peters."

We thanked him and exited the room, stopping at the nurse's station for a cup of coffee. I gulped down half a cup and stared at Fox, scowling.

"Who peed in your drink, miss angry?" He asked, which almost made me smile.

"You didn't have to demean the man. All he was trying to be was helpful." I scolded him, setting down my cup and yawning.

"Sorry. I know that was out of line. I guess I felt a little territorial." He paused. "About the… uh case. I mean. Territorial about the case." He was acting jumpy at his own words, which I thought was completely and utterly adorable.

I couldn't help but love this ridiculous and beautiful man. And I don't know what I was thinking, trying to pull myself away from him. But he was just a friend. And emotional bonds to others were a huge mistake in my line of work. It was just a bad idea.

I guess that is why I had decided to resign from the X-Files after this case. I had to resign from Mulder.

I was just too close.

****authors note**** the rest of the chapters will be longer :), this is just the prologue, after all. -HJM


	2. Solitude and Silence

**Authors note** Keep reviewing! I so appreciate it and it really keeps me writing -I take constructive criticism well :) enjoy chapter one -HJM

Chapter One: Solitude and Silence

POV Fox Mulder

Saralina was holding on by a thread. By a thread, of course, I mean a week. She only had a week to live.

"I don't really mind talking about it. The only problem is my fear. The fear is the worst part," the 17-year-old girl said shakily. Her pale complexion was strikingly fearful; so bloodless that she already looked dead. Scully, usually able to easily separate her feelings from cases, silently wiped tears from her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she gathered her composure and asked, "Can you describe for us what you saw before Nurse Roberts death?"

Saralina smoothed back her dull and thinning red hair then answered, "Yeah. I was sleeping, so I didn't see much. And I didn't wake up until I heard the sound of a giant shock…like muffled thunder. I saw her on the ground beside my bed with her arm burnt up to her shoulder, and the room smelled like blackened toast." She twisted her tiny nose and sighed.

Scully picked up her chart from the end of the bed and examined it. "The only thing I can see off here is that you have Leukocytosis. That's a severely increased number of white blood cells, suggesting maybe a parasite or giving your condition, Leukemia." She paused, brow furrowing. "Its odd though…"

"What is?" I asked curiously.

"The doctors have done countless exams, x-rays, CT scans and other tests. No cancer has been found." Scully said breathlessly. After that, she was speechless, her medical mind not formulating explanations like it usually did. Neither of us knew what to think of it.

"Are your parents around?"

"My mom passed away in a car crash five months ago, and I have been emancipated since. My father left before I was born. I've only ever met him once. Besides that, I have no relatives." Saralina didn't look very phased as she related her tale; she seemed very used to facing tragedy. I was sad for the poor girl, but I could tell that what she had been through had made her a strong person. Scully, on the other hand, covered her mouth and sniffled like she was about to cry.

"I'm sorry…I'm going to get more coffee." She choked out, hurriedly exiting the room.

I looked back at Saralina, frowning. "I apologize for her. Usually her emotions are more in check. It's good to know that she is not always so stagnant and cold, though," I joked.

Saralina grinned. "Its ok, I understand. You two are really cute together, by the way." She giggled like a little girl, vulnerable and small. _**That**___was sad.

"Oh," I exclaimed, catching her comment. "We are just partners in the Bureau. Nothing more." For some reason, that was excruciatingly painful to force out.

"You sure about that?" She laughed. "Sorry, I just assumed." Her breathing was quick and shallow, swirling air through her starving lungs.

"That's ok." I replied. _**I have to get back on topic**_, I thought, _**there is a case we have to solve**_. I reflected back on all the information I had gathered that morning.

Dead nurse. Electric shock. Brown powder. A girl who was dying without a cause. No diagnosis. A mysterious girl without parents who had an unexplainable illness who was the only other person in the room when the nurse died. No diagnosis. A girl without a cause.

My gut told me Saralina was the center of it all.

"You said you met your father once before. When?" I asked her, my brain piecing together evidence strand by strand at one hundred miles per hour.

"About two months ago when I got sick. He was the one who helped me into St. Julies. Its weird, because its like he knew what was going to happen…" Her mind wondered off, but she dismissed the suspicion, shaking her head. "He is very wealthy, that's why I was able to come here instead of a normal hospital. I didn't know he would have so much money. I though that he would have taken care of me earlier if he did." She shrugged. "Sorry. I'm dishing out my misery a little to quickly."

I shook my head. "Don't be sorry. Do you know your father's name?"

"Harold Peters." She said, a hint of disgust and shame in her voice.

"Alright, Saralina. That's all I think we need to know right now. We will be back to check on you tomorrow."

"You don't need to do that, its very, very kind of you." She commented, maturely. "I will be in the old room tomorrow after they finish sweeping for evidence." She frowned.

"What's the matter?" I asked, concerned.

She twisted her lips, reluctant to answer. "I think that this room is making me feel better. I'm not sure if it's the change of scenery or what. But I like this better. They won't let me stay over here, though. Its inconvenient or something."

I wasn't really sure what to say, but Scully had just emerged from the restroom, makeup fixed and tears gone.

"See you tomorrow." I said curtly, exiting her room and catching up with Scully.

"You ok?" I asked her in genuine concern.

She nodded. "I don't know what came over me," Scully said shakily. She grabbed my hand a squeezed it. "I'm ok now."

"I'm glad you feel better." I smiled and squeezed her hand back before releasing it and patting her on the shoulder.

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose and took another sip of coffee. "This tastes like dirt," She said, a disgruntled look coming over her face. I couldn't help by chuckle at the cute way her nose wrinkled when she was uncomfortable.

"I have-" I tried to say, but the sound of breaking glass and a high-pitched female scream cut me off.

Scully and I rushed towards the sound, finding only a hysterical nurse shuddering and pointing to the ground where the broken coffee pot lay. Upon viewing the horrific sight in front of us, I covered my mouth in utter disgust and Scully ran to the nearest trashcan.

On the floor writhing and crawling in dirt, were cockroaches and worms that had filled up the pot. I didn't blame Scully for losing her breakfast. She had, after all, actually drunken a cup and a half.

It seemed as if the contents of the pot had turned into dirt and insects, though, as there was no liquid among the remnants and no bugs or dirt when I had seen the coffee before we went into Saralina's room. This was just confirming my suspicions.

After assisting some of the less squeamish nurses in cleaning up the mess, I found Scully chugging a glass of water in the lobby downstairs.

"It is just not your day." I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"You can say that again." She sighed, pointing outside. "And now it's raining." My gaze followed where she was pointing to see water and hail pounding down on the pavement outside, unusual for the middle of summer in California. LA was starting to seem down on its luck as of late.

"C'mon. Let's go." I reached down, took her hand and helped her woozy form off of the chair. We walked to the front desk and I got the address of the man who checked Saralina into the hospital. It was time to pay her father a visit.

"What do we need her father's address for?" Asked Scully, tentative of what my answer would be.

"I have a hunch."

She sighed and eyed me skeptically. "You always do, Mulder. You always do."


	3. Silence and Soliloquy

**note** Yep, hey, I can't seem to edit this chapter to my liking. Maybe its because Saralina's dad is such an ass. I don't know. This definitely isn't even close to being my best writing, so I apologize before hand. But I do have to post it and get this chapter out of the way. I would still really appreciate reviews; they will encourage me to write better and more frequently in the future. Nevertheless, enjoy chapter two. -HJM

Chapter Two: Silence and Soliloquy

POV Dana Scully

Harold Peters was a curious man. A curious and terrible man. From the outside, he seemed normal enough: About sixty-five, wealth in abundance, living in a large mansion in an LA suburb, five dogs, two parakeets, and a girlfriend who looked about 25. He was tall, skinny, bald, yellow-teethed, and, in the most acute sense of the phrase, a very funny looking fellow.

But when gazing at the bigger picture, one would find that Harold Peters wasn't normal at all. He was terrible. And he was curious.

"Why am_ I_ part of your investigation?" He asked us, hands shaky as we sat down on his gold banded, white leather couch. "I've never even heard of this …Nurse Whatsit."

"We are interested in your daughter's role. She was the only person in the room when Nurse _Roberts_ died." I told him. "We just want to ask you some questions regarding her." Harold nodded wearily.

"Have you always had this much wealth?" Mulder blatantly asked. I shot a look at him that said '_what does that have to do with anything?' _

Mr. Peters stiffened, pulse noticeably getting faster and faster. "I thought this was about Saralina."

"It's all relevant," Mulder assured him with a knowing smile, tapping his spindly fingers against his pocket.

"I won the lottery last year, simple as that. Ten million."

"I think this case is anything _but_ simple." Mulder chastised. It seemed as if Harold didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth to defend his case, but shrunk back into his seat, decidedly choosing a silently innocent approach.

At this moment, his butler, a stagnant elderly man, entered with sparkling cucumber water and a bowl of ice. The atmosphere in the mansion was so tacky it was making me nauseous.

"When did you become aware that you had a daughter?" I interjected before Mulder could ask any more irrelevant questions.

"Just a couple months ago." He said quickly in a rehearsed and monotone voice.

I narrowed my eyes and pestered, "Why did you only become aware of her now?"

Mr. Peters hesitated, "She was born after her mother and I separated. I, uh, went to a psychic and she told me that I, uh, had a daughter. And that she was in danger. Naturally, I went to see Saralina, and when I found her, she was extremely sick. So much so that I knew I would have to take her to St. Julies."

I looked at Mulder and sighed. The excuses of a deadbeat father were getting us no further to the truth. My partner, however, was a little to intrigued by the mention of a psychic.

"So she is a reputable Medium?" Mulder asked as I rolled my eyes.

"…I guess so." Harold mumbled. I was resisting the urge to slap some sense into Mulder. The only thing we were accomplishing was the wasting of valuable time. "This is pointless." Mr. Peters said before I had a chance to. "You should go. I will show you out." I stood up a stretched my legs before walking towards the door.

"May I get a glass of normal water before we leave?" Asked Mulder with a suspicious whimsy in his voice.

"Yes. Help yourself in the kitchen. Then get _out_ of my house." I nodded and practically pulled Mulder across the floor. For some reason, I really felt an urgent need to leave Mr. Peter's residence.

When we were alone, Fox asked, "What's the hurry, Scully?" I detected a hint of humor in his voice.

I frowned. "We are burning daylight. I just want to get back to what is relevant in the case. Maybe the lead of the powder on Nurse Roberts' sleeve will go somewhere. This place though," I looked around and crossed my arms uncomfortably. "This place is giving me the creeps."

"Fine. Let me just check this out…" his mind wandered off as we walked into the kitchen. Instead of getting water, he started opening cabinets and drawers, searching for something he clearly wasn't sure of yet. I knew that it was one of those moments when no matter what I said or did, I could not tear Mulder away from his passionate hunches.

"Cereal, bread, flour, brown sugar, baking soda…Aha!" he announced out loud, snatching what looked like a piece of paper from the counter. "Lets bounce." I huffed out a breath and buried my hands in my coat pockets.

"Finally." I muttered as we got into the car. "What did you pick up?"

"His psychic's business card. Its time to pay the fortuneteller a visit."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me, Mulder." The only thing keeping me from slapping him now was the fact I loved him so damn much.

He seemed as if he was about to explain our destination a bit further when our car phone rang.

"Hello? This is Agent Scully." I answered.

"Yes, this is Dr. Bader from the LA FBI lab. The test results from the unidentified substance have returned."

"And?"

"And I used some in my coffee this morning."

"Excuse me?"

"Ma'am, the substance we detected was brown sugar." Annoyed and at a dead end, I hung up the phone and told Mulder.

"I knew it. I knew Harold was part of it." Mulder said with a stubborn determination in his voice.

"You realize that just because you found brown sugar in Mr. Peter's cabinet doesn't mean he killed the nurse. He has no motive, no evidence against him, and almost every household in America has brown sugar in it. He is barely connected to the case at all."

"True. You are right, Scully. But you know what? Not every household in America has instructions for an incantation."

"You aren't making any sense."

Mulder pulled the psychic's number and a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and deposited them on my lap. "It's the recipe for an incantation that calls for brown sugar."

He cleared his throat. "Brown sugar and a whole lot of money."


	4. Soliloquy and Sentiment

**Author's note** Hey! Review because this chapter is much better than the last! I apologize for not updating sooner; college apps are eating me alive. Enjoy ch 3- and REVIEW pleaseeeee! Yey, I love you all. -HJM

Chapter Three: Soliloquy and Sentiment

POV Fox Mulder

It all made perfect sense. Harold Peters found an incantation to make someone sick with the ingredient of brown sugar, among other things. Nurse Rogers found the spell- or whatever it was manifested as- in Saralina's room, touched it, and perished by its deadly electrical properties. Some of the brown sugar on the spell burned onto her. It was just so simple.

"Its not that simple, Mulder." Scully scolded me when I relayed my theory to her. "There is no _magic_ involved her. Just _science_." She shuffled in the shotgun seat of the car next to me. "Clearly, Harold just found out that his daughter was sick, and felt guilty enough from abandoning her that he had to help her in sickness. Nurse Roberts died in an unrelated incident from some electrical shock from a faulty machine or a broken outlet, or a mechanical device that shorted out. This isn't an X- File." She relayed confidently, determination in her eyes.

I just smiled while she said all of this, trying to make sense of it in her medical mind. The way she breathed faster, nose wrinkling, cheeks growing red- it was so cute when she passionately dismissed my theories, justifying them with her own logical ones.

"How does that explain Saralina's sickness, or the brown sugar in the spell?" I asked as I glanced at the Medium's address on the dashboard, defying Scully's demands to not see the woman.

"Plenty of people have unexplainable illnesses. And the substance is a coincidence!" Her voice was getting louder, irritated-green eyes glinting- by my stubborn belief system. "This 'spell' was probably some sort of recipe –Its all organic material!"

I frowned. "What about the bugs in the coffee?"

"A practical joke." She grimaced and sighed. "A gross one."

"It doesn't add up when you explain it like that!" My voice was bridging on laughter, amused at the steam that I could practically see coming out of her ears.

"I don't know what else you need explaining for, Fox. Its just a logical answer."

"I just-" I froze, breath hitching in my throat. "Why did you just call me Fox? You never do." I chuckled nervously, purely confused.

She clearly didn't think I was going to catch that, as she looked like a deer caught in the headlights and stuttered out the answer, "I-I, um, I guess I just slipped. Sorry."

I smiled. "Don't apologize." At that moment, we turned into the driveway of the residential house that the psychic worked out of. Across the top of the garage door hung a sign that read "Madame Rosario".

Scully shook her head, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

I chucked. "I can't handle your level of excitement to be here…Dana."

She scowled and shot me a look that could kill as we exited the car and walked up to her door. I scanned to front steps, almost tripping over creeping vines stemming from a darkly creeping garden. "Mulder, I don't like the looks of this place." Scully pointed to the large, gilded knockers on the front door with little ruby jeweled snakes wrapped around the handle.

"Don't be deterred by the front door, Scully. If you focus on the creepy details, you will never see the bigger, more important picture. Connecting those details into a whole is the most important aspect of solving this case." I wrapped my hands around the handle and knocked. Scully cringed, half expecting the snake to strike.

"What are you, a philosopher?" She said a little calmer. "The whole is greater than the parts? I never pegged you as a Gestalt Psychologist."

At that moment, a dark woman who seemed maybe sixty opened the door. She was fragile, but had an air of independence and self-proclaiming strength. "Why have you called on Madame Rosario. None come to me anymore." She proclaimed in a heavily accented voice- probably Russian.

"Hello ma'am. We are with the FBI, I am special agent Fox Mulder, and this is special agent Dana Scully." I said, flashing my badge and pulling it back in. In the corner of my eye, I saw Scully paw at her hair impatiently. "We are here to inquire about a regular customer of yours- Harold Peters?"

"A troubled man." She tossed her dark hair behind her head and motioned us inside. "How much trouble is he in?" She closed the front door behind up and the little light filtering through the rainclouds outside disappeared. We were in almost complete darkness. I don't know how anyone could live like that.

"Well, none yet. Most likely none at all." Scully assured her. "We are just being thorough." I could here the distrust for my beliefs in her voice. I looked around the gloomy hallway, seeing her black rose wallpaper and the largest spider web- filled chandelier I had ever seen dangling precariously from the ceiling. It looked like a scene from an incredibly clique horror movie set.

"Have you ever dealt with witchcraft in your endeavors?" I asked her as we all took a seat at her kitchen table. I spread my hands across the hard, knobby top of the wood and breathed deeply. The place seemed relatively legitimate. I could tell that my partner, however, disagreed.

Rosario crossed her arms squinted at me. She looked confused, and a tad bit offended. "I do no such dark dealings."

"Do you have anything that suggests even subtle undertones of the occult?" I could tell the Scully was getting impatient, tapping her light pink nails in little rows on the table.

"Maybe some books…"She trailed off. "I will not speak of this any more until I can read you."

"Excuse me?" Scully looked up at her. "You want _what_ exactly?"

"I will only talk if you let me give you readings." I eagerly pulled out my wallet from my back pocket and she raised her hand to stop me. "On the house."

"Fine." Scully said, pausing and the repeating "Fine."

I was pretty shocked that Scully was actually going with it. She must have seen some sort of inkling of a lead somewhere, somehow.

"Good, how about you first." She pointed at Scully and she nodded, short, silky red hair swishing forward impatiently.

I stood up begrudgingly and pouted, disappointed that I wasn't chosen first. This was all pretty hilarious- and exciting. Something that was surprising to even me was that I had never formally had my fortune told. I was really wondering what she was going to say- or predict. So excited in fact, that as I stepped into the other room and pressed my ear to the door to eavesdrop on Scully's reading.

"My dear, your palms show how conflicted your loyalties are. How have you not collapsed! You have more stress than anyone I have ever seen."

I smiled, imagining the skeptical look on Scully's face. It was funny though, how true it was. She really had been overworking lately.

"Dear, how come you haven't told him about your feelings?"

"I-I don't know what you are talking about."

"Your partner," she huffed out a labored breath. "How come you haven't told him you love him?"

My heart stopped.


	5. Sentiment and Sadness

**A/N** Helooo keep the beautiful reviews coming! They keep me writing! And I am so ecstatic about having over 1500 people reading this… I will put as much effort as I can squeeze out of myself for you in this chapter. Fun fact: I'm re-watching Triangle for the hundredth time while writing this, which for those of you who don't know, is the first episode where Scully and Mulder kiss (Even if it was an alternate timeline!) -SO, I'm in a super shippy Sculder mood. Enjoy the next installment of my attempt to write an episode.

"Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you." -Coldplay

Chapter Four: Sentiment and Sadness

POV Dana Scully

Part one

Her hand was wrapped around my wrist, palms burning with a fiery shock.

"I- I don't feel that way" I said defiantly, lying through my teeth, praying with every inch of me that Mulder wouldn't hear what she had said from the other room.

"You cannot deny truths. You can only deny what is not in your heart. This agent Mulder, however, resides not only in your heart, but also in your soul."

"I'm not sure what to say" I was in disbelief that I actually was hearing it out loud. Out loud meant it was real. I really loved him.

I shook my head. This is a psychic, I thought to myself. This is a fake and unsubstantial guess on her part. She doesn't know how I actually feel.

"You can't bring yourself tell him, though." She smiled. " You are afraid that if the feeling wasn't mutual, that you would be forced away from him by shame."

I yanked my hand out of her clutches and sat back defensively in my chair. "Can we finish up? "

"I've barely started with you!" She stood up and hobbled over to a kitchen drawer, snatched a crumpled up cloth from inside, and shut in with a bang.

She sat back down and unrolled the cloth, filled with herbs and spices. "Put your hands over it." She ordered.

I was on the verge of leaving altogether, but decided that at least a tiny part of me actually wanted to hear what else she was going to say. I audibly sighed and hovered my hands over the cloth, and pulled them back away again almost immediately, gasping.

It had gone up in flames, almost scorching my hands. "Hey!" I exclaimed.

Madame Rosario just laughed. "I have never seen it catch fire so quickly. You are much more conflicted than I thought." The tiny flames died and all that was left were strange scorch marks on the wood where it had been.

The old woman grasped a pair of glasses that were hanging from chains dangling on her neckline and eagerly shoved them above her nose.

"Ahhh. You have good reason to be afraid. Those close to you are in danger. You will lose the ones who you love the most. Your father has already passed."

My eyes welled up in tears. "He died of a heart attack. It was a surprising misfortune."

She scratched at the table. "His death was no accident, dear. The marks never lie."

"What do you mean? Was he murdered?!" I was breathing hard, having trouble reminding myself that this was all faux.

"I have nothing else to share with you about him. Just be careful about your loved ones. They face grave danger."

"What else do the marks say?" I asked, scared and impatient.

"So many troubles here. You put your work before your life. You are skeptical, demeaning, depressed. But you are passionate in your beliefs and would do anything to protect the people you love." She paused and looked into my eyes for confirmation, and I shivered. "Most of the rest is hard to read- so many problems, so many mixed emotions, so many overlapping burn marks."

"Is there anything about my... Death?" I asked wearily.

"There is nothing conclusive here. There are consequences from when you were taken, though. Things that will bring you close to death, stemming from what happened to you. I can't tell anything about the incident, but these signs- they are so grotesque." She looked up with sorrow in her face and said, "You aren't even sure what happened."

"How did you know that? You can't have known -"

"You distrust my abilities? That is a big mistake. I have given you warnings that you must abide by. It's extremely important that you do."

"Alright..." My heart was fluttering nervously, wanting to escape from the information I had just gathered. How could she be real? "I think I'm done."

She just smiled compassionately, knowingly. "I think you are. Will you retrieve your partner from the other room?"

I nodded and went to open the door to call him in. I turned the knob, heard a click - click of the metal in my own silence, and let a single tear fall from my eye.

Everything she had said was true. Terrible and true.

You will lose the ones you love the most.

Part two: POV Fox Mulder

Scully jostled me from a pretend sleep. Pretend because I had been listening at the door and didn't really want her to know.

"Sleepy much?" She asked me with a strangely bittersweet smile on her face.

I faked a yawn and stretched my arms, sitting up in a chair that I had hurriedly jumped in mere moments before. "Yeah, I guess didn't sleep very well last night."

She looked extremely relieved to know that I hadn't heard a word. Funny, though, I heard everything. Did she really love me? I couldn't tell for sure.

"Is it my turn?" I said almost sadly. My excitement for this moment had suddenly turned to reluctance. I cringed.

"Mulder," Scully said in a worrisome voice, "What's wrong?" She reached out and touched my hand to comfort me.

"After all these years of never actually going to a psychic for myself, I realize why."

"And?" She prompted me.

"And its because I want to find the truth. Not the truth that is found in knowing my future or my failings- I have always searched for the truth of solving mysteries, solving the past as it pertains to the now."

"Fox," She grabbed my shoulder and stared into my eyes, making me shiver. "Its B.S. It doesn't matter."

"Dana." I said mockingly. "I want to believe."

She squeezed my shoulder and steered me through the open door. "Then believe." She said, shutting the door behind me.

Madame Rosario put her hands together and straightened in the chair across from me as I sat down.

I tentatively stretched out my arm across the table and her leathery withered grip held it for examination. She traced her finger down the heart line of my palm. "You put too much effort in seeking a skewed reality. You have no time to see how others feel. And you have no time to love."

I sat silently.

She squeezed my lifeline. "You are searching for something you lost long ago. And for something that will help you find it," she told me. Scully was clearly very wrong about Rosario being B.S. How would she have known about Samantha otherwise?

The only thing I could think of saying was, "My sister- she was taken."

"And you seek the truth to get her back and find out exactly what happened to her. It is the same thing that happened to your partner." She put down my hand and I raised my eyebrows.

"How can you know for sure?"

"I can not tell you definitely. This is no science- it is just a sense." She smiled. "You have an easier time believing me than she does. You give so much trust into the mysterious and unknown."

"Scully always tries to prove me wrong. That is one of the reasons I need her by my side. She balances me." I sighed. The truth was, she not only balanced me, she was a part of me. I couldn't imagine solving the X-Files without her.

In fact, I couldn't imagine life without her. Maybe it _was_ love.

"You shouldn't have eavesdropped on her." Madame Rosario scolded me.

"How, uh, did you know that?" I said, my face growing red like a kid caught digging through a candy jar.

"I just do." She scoffed. "Fake sleeping; only your dear red headed darling would fall for that!"

"Is _she_ listening in on _us_?" I whispered wearily."

Rosario shook her head. "She trusts you. She is just looking at books." The woman paused and dropped my hand. "Which is what I need to show you now that we are done."

I nodded and stood. "How did you know that I was afraid to have my future foretold? You didn't say a word about it." I was most relieved of the fact.

She laughed, very lightheartedly for being so old, and repeated, "I just do."

"Thank you," I told her as she opened the door and walked in on Scully flipping through a book that lay on the coffee table.

"Mulder- come look at this." She said with much more composure than earlier. Her head was clear when she analyzed things; mind no longer dwelling on the almost embarrassing admission of her love.

I stood behind her as she showed me a page that was ripped from an old leather bound book. The title, though, remained on the crinkly paper. It read: "The Transference of Death."

"It can't be, can it."? She asked me with frightened concern in her voice.

I took the book from her and showed it to the psychic, inquiring, "Did you give this to Harold Peters?"

She closed her eyes and raised her hands to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No. He stole it. I only ever even had the book in the first place because it was a gift given to me long ago…. I do need to tell you though, that Harold came to me begging for a way to save his life, as he had terminal cancer. From what I could tell in his reading, he had years of his life taken away by something, causing the disease. I refused to help him, as I knew only bad things could come of it. But, while I had my back turned, he tore this page out of the book and ran out. It seemed as if he knew exactly what he was looking for and precisely where to find it…" She trailed off.

"Madame, who gave you that book?" I asked her.

"A dear friend of mine, another medium- Kiya The Healer. She died a year ago at 105." She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

"Thanks, I think we have everything we need," I told her, walking back with Scully towards the door.

"Good luck with the case," She told us as we left.

Scully turned to me. "This really is an X- File, isn't it? What do we do now?"

"We need to find Kiya The Healer."

"But she's-"

"Dead? I don't think so."

She frowned. "Alright. Lead the way, Sherlock."

She would have been much more jittery around me after her confirmation of Rosario's reading. Well, she would have, but she was too stumped by what she saw on the table as we left.

The burns were gone. In their place was a single mark.

One. Small. Cross.


End file.
